Colin F. Jones


There is a soldier in our time of peace,
Who fights the evil rife upon our streets;
Risks his life that crime might one day cease
Despite the flak from many that he greets.
Just men, with wives, with children safe at home
Who live and breathe and eat and love as well.
Yet every day they make their way alone
In places good and where some evils dwell;
He sees old soldiers wasting in the park,
Some lie in laneways robbed of what they had
And in the shadows he hears an old dog bark
Where the smell from a bloated body makes him sad.
He’s always there you know, when you need him most,
Though more often he’s the city’s friendly ghost